Dried up, a guitar upon my knee
I should have sold out when the devil came for me
Dig a hole and throw it out to sea
Break the code, how happy I could be
I still wave at the dots on the shore
And I still beat my head against the door
I still rage and wage my little war
I'm a shade and easy to ignore
White wall, I had to paint a door
I always find that I've been through it before
Close it up and throw away the key
Break the code, how happy I could be
I woke up and I had a big idea
To buy a new soul at the start of every year
I paid up and it cost me pretty dear
Here's a hymn to those that disappear
Jei mano protevis pries 770 metu buvo koks jotvingis, jis prie Mindaugo valdymo turbut mego muzika prie lauzo ir buvo snekorius, pasakorius, fantaziorius
Ne dėl temperatūros, o dėl to, kad lyja kas 5 minutes. Negali iškelti kojos iš namų. Čia kaip toj humoristinėj situacijoj, kai iškeli koją - lyja, grįžti atgal - nustoja lyti.
O jeigu oro temperaturai faka rodyt, nu nezinau tada temperaturos idealios. Visi pagal save megsta, ziauriai dideles, ziauriai mazas megsta tik ekstremalai